


God's Bidder

by Sekki



Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Death, Feels, GOT7 - Freeform, Gay, Gore, Jinyoung, M/M, Mild Gore, Romance, Verse 2, jaebum - Freeform, jjp, kpop
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-06-15 23:53:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15424419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sekki/pseuds/Sekki
Summary: The ‘numbers’ never seemed to stop but his young mind tried to overlook it, as his parents wanted. It was just an innocent aspect of his life, it was just another thing that could pass by. That was, until it wasn’t- on the day of his tenth birthday.-236.





	1. Prologue- Bongsu

**Author's Note:**

> I have been writing this over the course of a month and am happy to finally have written a chapter that I'm happy with. The summary for the fic is not very descriptive, and this chapter leaves a lot of questions. I hope you trust me when I say that they will all be answered later.
> 
> Enjoy reading!

There were three constants in his life. Confusion, fragmented love, and hate.

_“He can see numbers, doctor.”  
“Numbers? Well that’s just absurd. I’m sorry but- I think you have the wrong person. I believe a psychiatrist would be best for this sort of thing.”_

He often asked his parents about numbers, neither of them understood. The boy stated that everyone had a number. A large, red or gold number that sat upon their chest. Of course, they played along with him at first.

_“Why does that man have a negative?”  
“Well, Jaebum, he’s probably feeling sick today. Maybe it will be a positive tomorrow.”_

The ‘numbers’ never seemed to stop but his young mind tried to overlook it, as his parents wanted. It was just an innocent aspect of his life, it was just another thing that could pass by. That was, until it wasn’t- on the day of his tenth birthday.

\--

06/01: 5:31am 

As soon as dawn broke the sky, and as soon as light spilled into Jaebum’s tiny window, his parents were in his room. The door was practically knocked down, and he didn’t have enough time to even open his eyes before he was pulled into one too many tight embraces. A celebration of double digits.

Prior to this day, his parents had asked if he preferred to go to school or to stay home. His friends had told him that they would make a cake for him- so he told his parents that he had to go to school. They seemed disappointed at that but would be happy to give him a sufficient party on arrival home.

“Happy birthday, my baby. I’ve made breakfast whenever you’re ready for it…” His mother pulled back from him, a sort of floppy smile on her face. It was one that reflected a factor of exhaustion, but one that was unmistakably happy.  
“Give him a second, honey. He hasn’t even woken up yet.” His father stepped back with a laugh, studying his disorientated son with a factor of pride.

His mother and father were always somewhat pleased with him, constantly proud to see good behaviour and work ethic, even if it didn’t result in top grades. Jaebum did well at school and even though he wasn’t anything like a prodigy, well was enough for his parents.

He finally opened his eyes, blinking a few more times. His vision swam, until eventually, his mother and father appeared blurrily within it. A steady grin crossed his face.  
“Thank you…” He reached up to pull his parents back into a hug, one that was lazy but still appreciative.

When the hug broke once more, his mother rushed out and came back with a small stack of wrapped boxes. There were three that threatened to topple as she placed them on the bed in front of him.  
“Start with the big one, then make your way up.” There was a glimmer of excitement in his mother’s eyes as his gaze switched to the presents.

He did as she wanted, placing the smaller boxes beside him carefully, then pulling the large box forward. It was wrapped in paper that had patterns from his favourite television show, but it was plain apart from that. He worked his fingers beneath the tabs of paper and managed to cleanly tear it off. It was a fish bowl, packaged in a box that depicted an overly excited child feeding his pet fish. Jaebum didn’t mind this gift- he wanted pets, cats specifically, but his father was allergic. A fish wouldn’t be so bad.

“We’ll go get him tomorrow or the day after, one that you want.” His father said, talking about the new addition to the household.  
Jaebum nodded and slid the box to the side. “It should be fun, thank you.” He smiled up at them, then pulled the next box over.

This one was equally as lacklustre, a pile of clothes, neatly folded by his mother. He managed to sound convincing as he thanked them but was grateful when he finally got to the tiny box. It was the only box wrapped completely different. The paper was plain white, with a blue ribbon tied around it. He studied it for a second before pulling the ribbon and carefully opening the paper. His curiosity peaked as a velvet box peaked out of the wrapping.

His parents weren’t known to give him expensive gifts, nor to ever shower him in anything gaudy. He looked up at them suspiciously, just to receive a reassuring smile in return. He looked back down and slowly pulled the remaining paper off, then held the velvet in his hands. In what seemed like a slow moment, he opened the box, the lid swinging upwards and resting elegantly on two golden hinges.

Nestled in the centre of the box, like an egg carefully stashed in fabric, was a simple silver ring. Though plain, it shone from being tirelessly polished and would fit neatly on his middle finger, with room to still grow. He pulled it from the box, struggling for a moment. It was heavy- heavier than expected, and incredibly cold when he slid it down his finger. His eyes kept on it until he was startled out of his focus by his father’s hand on his shoulder.

“We discussed the fact that maybe boys of your age don’t want jewellery, so if you don’t want it-“  
“No, I really like it,” Jaebum cut him off, then realised he had just interrupted his father and turned to him apologetically, “sorry dad. I didn’t mean to be rude. It’s really awesome, and I really appreciate it. Thank you both.”

His parents broke into smiles once more and pulled him into a final hug.

06/01: 12:03pm

The class gathered around a clump of desks that had been pushed together to try and form a large table. In the centre sat a strawberry cake, alight with birthday candles. The teacher started to sing ‘happy birthday’ and it soon devolved into a series of chanting, claps and cheering. Jaebum, amidst being nudged by friends and deafened by classmates, had to blow out the candles.

“Make a wish!” Someone shouted.

He obeyed, putting his hands together as a crooked smile crossed his face. What could he wish for? What would suit? The ring put an unaccustomed weight between his hands, and that seemed to be the only thing he could think about. Even as a ten-year-old, it seemed a little odd to wish for the happiness of a ring but that was exactly what he wished for.

 ~~ 06/01:  ~~ 5:51pm

“The time capsule? The one from two years ago?” Jaebum looked up at his friends in astonishment, and they replied with eager nods.

There were three other boys in his friend group, two of which were standing in front of him. They had been friends since they were eight, and to commemorate their friendship, they constructed a time capsule for everyone to contribute to. Jaebum remembered it clearly, because he had sacrificed his favourite toy car; well, his second favourite. There was no way that the Earth was getting his favourite one.

“We thought it would be cool to dig it up, now that we’re all ten. Bongsu said that he would go ahead.”  
Jaebum nodded slowly. “Okay. Let’s do it then.”

~~ Bongsu: 6:02pm ~~

He could hear his friends panting behind him, but he was determined to get there first. They were yelling at him to wait up, one was complaining about asthma.

Once they had brought it up, he became suddenly excited. He wanted to see the memories- even if it had only been two years. He reached the top of the hill and rested a moment with his hands on his knees. He was tired himself- it probably couldn’t hurt to wait anyway, his young brain realised.

 As he straightened up, his breathing coming to a steadier rate, he decided to stop and wait while they caught up. He turned to face the direction from which he came, his vision still dotty from the exercise.  
“Jaebum-!” One was yelling.  
“I’m waiting, don’t worry.” He yelled back, earning a different sound in return. The sound of rustling, from behind him.

From behind him?

He turned, almost tripping over his own shoes, and saw Bongsu. He had his back pressed against a tree, a box between his hands. The familiar greeting rose to his lips but was cut short when he realised something was wrong. Something was unmistakably and extremely wrong. Perhaps the hands were not lazily drifting wherever they could- they were limp, he wasn’t moving, didn’t even seem to notice Jaebum.

It wasn’t noticeable from a distance; in fact, it looked like the poor boy was sleeping. Jaebum made the same mistake, until he got closer. His friends were still yelling out, but their voices had long since drowned out in the back of his head. As soon as he crouched in front of his friend, he fell backwards, letting his backside hit the ground with a dull thump.

Bongsu’s eyes had rolled to the back of his head, which was now horribly deformed. His lips were parted ever so slightly, with a mixture of blood and spit still fresh on the corner of his mouth. The box between his hands, when Jaebum finally looked down, was the time capsule. His hands were cradling it, not firmly, but it seemed fake. As if someone had moved him to be in this position. He tried to ignore that for now, he could feel the vomit rising in his throat, just looking at the deformity that had become his friend.

Be strong, be strong.

How could Jaebum help him? What was he meant to do? An idea flashed in his head.

His mother had taught him all sorts of things from an early age. What to do if someone had a seizure… was Bongsu having a seizure? He didn’t think so- a seizure was when they shook… or something. What to do if someone was unconscious… she had explained to him that unconscious was like sleeping. Except they aren’t sleeping. Is he breathing?

Jaebum reached up, his hand shaking madly, and reluctantly stopped below Bongsu’s nose. There was no heat, no breath. There was nothing.

“Bongsu…” Jaebum’s voice was whiny, tears were welling in his eyes, “Bongsu, how do I help you? What do I do?”

No response.

The panic, the fear, all rose up in one instance. His voice erupted into a series of screams, that died down into sobs.

~~ i miss you ~~

~~ make your choice ~~

-236

06/01: happy birthday

“Hey little guy. Can you look up at me?”  
No response.  
“Jaebum? This man just wants to check that you’re okay. Jaebum?”

Static.

The voices eventually stopped, Jaebum supposed that the people left. He didn’t know who they were, all their voices sounded the same. He couldn’t move, his body felt paralysed as he sat on the bench. He couldn’t recall where he was exactly. He couldn’t recall much. He was Jaebum. Bongsu was dead. Today was his tenth birthday. They didn’t open the capsule.

“You’ve got blood on your ring.”

A voice. A voice with definition. A soft, deep, somehow fabric-like voice. This one had a tone, this one had intonations. Jaebum felt his head move, tilt up ever so slightly. His eyes did not get past the man’s shoes, before they were covered. He was too tired to fight, complain, or question it.

It was a soft fabric around his head, tied so that it wasn’t tight, but not loose either. He felt a hand take his- the one without the ring. It was soft- seemingly feminine. That confused Jaebum, he thought the voice had been male. It had to be a male.

He was being led somewhere. He didn’t care where, it could’ve been his death and he wouldn’t have cared. He could hear machines beeping, but there was still the steady tapping of shoes beside him. He held on a little tighter to the hand, not sure what else to take comfort in.

They came to a stop, silence had fallen.

“Have you ever wondered what death feels like, Jaebum?” The smooth voice again.

Death. No, he had never considered it. Prior to now, that was. His memory formed a blurred vision of Bongsu. Bongsu with his slumped shoulders, Bongsu with his head bashed in.

No response.

“Kim Bongsu. Aged 10. Assisted his father with a drug business that caused the death of eight teenagers due to the consistent and dangerous supply. Date of death, 6th of January 2004. Do you know this Bongsu?”

This time, the man did not wait for a response. Jaebum felt the hands working at the back of his head again, removing the blindfold.

“This Bongsu died approximately four minutes before you arrived. The emergency services arrived approximately ten minutes after. In that time, you managed to get his blood on your shirt, sleeves and hands. You managed to get blood on your ring.” He seemed slightly irritated as he said the final part, but all Jaebum could do was listen on.

The fabric fell down, hitting the floor soundlessly. Jaebum’s eyes were already trained on the hospital bed. He could see a slight lump where the feet would be. The rest of him was covered by the curtain. Jaebum stepped back, only to find the man behind him was blocking the way. His back hit against the man’s chest with another dull thump.

“Negative. Two, three, six.” The man said.

No one in the room seemed to notice them.

What was he talking about? Jaebum could see his friends’ feet, and he knew that if he pulled the curtain back, Bongsu would not be alive. These numbers…

“It was a negative, Jaebum. What colour are the negative numbers?”

Red. They were red. His voice didn’t work like that though. His vocal chords had struck themselves into a state of shock, so he could only think.

“When you were hugging your friend…” the voice was dropping, “when you were begging him to come back alive… did you realise that he was a murderer? Did you realise that the man who had murdered him had lost two children himself? Did you realise that his number was a negative?”

Jaebum’s heart was sinking, he wanted to leave. The man was gripping his shoulders firmly, preventing him from moving. Where would he go anyway? He couldn’t run from his mind for that long.

“Jaebum,” the voice was beside his ear now, “all you need to do is tell me what colour the negative numbers are. When you were hugging your friend, you didn’t see his number. Why did you look past it?”  
“I-I always…”  
“That’s right. You always look past the numbers. Or else, you would go insane. How long will you shun this, Jaebum?”

This was gibberish. Either he wasn’t hearing properly, or he just couldn’t understand. The man behind him sighed, his grip loosening ever so slightly. Jaebum was now gripped by something else- fear. The fear of the unknown.

“Jaebum. It’s time for you to wake up. I don’t believe that I should need to terrorise a human child, but I don’t have much choice.” The physical grip was back, this time it was turning him away from Bongsu. He felt a hand go over his eyes. All he could see was black, until he saw blue. A blue deeper than the ocean, a blue deeper than any blue he had ever imagined. Perhaps a sea of sapphires might compare, but it would certainly never match. Jaebum felt his heart settle, he felt his breathing steady.

“You’ve always been able to see them Jaebum, but you’ve never known why. You’ve never been able to act on it. Today, this changes. Your birth came with sight, your tenth comes with knowledge, and your eighteenth will come with fate. These are not able to be changed, nor are these negotiable. It is who you are, Jaebum.” The voice echoed in his head, as if he was in an empty tower that spiralled into oblivion.

“So tell me, Jaebum. What colour are the positive numbers?”  
He did not feel resistance, he did not feel fear. He had been lulled into a complete state of compliance. “Gold.”  
“And Jaebum, what colour are the negative numbers?”  
“Red.” It felt heavy as it left his mouth, Bongsu’s name was vanishing around him.  
“Good.”

The blue disappeared, and he was suddenly in a room filled with screams and sobs. A room that was completely black and thick with sorrow. This didn’t seem quite so troubling, the thing that was bothering him was the burning in his eyes. It felt like someone was in his head, scratching on the back of his retinas.

\--

The elementary school shut down.

Bongsu died that night.

For eight years, Jaebum did not speak.

For eight years, Jaebum did not see.

In five years, his father died.

In six, his mother.

All along, all along.

The day after, his eyes changed from brown to gold.

His number changed from zero to one.

After everything, Jaebum never got his fish.

The fishbowl smashed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's probably a little bit jumpy and really confusing but look forward to mega monologues of explanation next chapter tq
> 
> Enjoy reading~

06/01: 7:01am

It took a considerable amount of effort to lift himself out of bed. Each time he tried, he fell back down, his head hitting the pillow with a defeated sigh. There was never a problem with waking up, since he tended to be wide awake at least an hour before his alarm went off. He decided, over years of deliberation, that it was a problem with motivation. He couldn’t seem to find a sufficient reason to get up. Instead, his mind preferred to delve into the past, where he never liked to stay for too long.

Even as he lay there, reaching over to turn off his alarm for the fifth time, his mind was wandering. It got to the point where he started to remember his parents’ faces and their smiling, approving eyes. At that point, it became too much, and he was able to push himself up.

The sheets fell from his bare chest, lazily heaping in his lap. With a short grunt, Jaebum finally looked around the room; across the bare furnishings, across the organised piles of folded clothes, over the bookshelf stacked with novels he had either never read or read so many times that he could quote them word for word.

It was a stark contrast to his childhood room- the one with the little sailor’s window hidden in a corner, the one decorated in drabs of blue and green; the one that was kept clean by his mother’s delicate hands, even after his father’s death. Jaebum swallowed back these memories now, hoping to supress them for several years. They wouldn’t leave, he knew, they would return over and over. They would resurface any time his eyes were open. They would resurface even when his eyes were closed.

He dropped his gaze from the area around him, finally sick of the thoughts that were associated with it, then looked to the ring that sat almost innocently on his finger. He had been fiddling with it absently, but he stopped as soon as he became aware of it. The metal reminded him of Bongsu. Jaebum caught himself swallowing again. He could feel the anxiety clawing at his throat, clawing behind his eyes as the memories threatened him once more. Bongsu with his head smashed in. Bongsu with his own blood drying on the back of his neck, drying on his matted hair.

The ring seemed to adopt a blue sort of sheen as Jaebum thought back to Bongsu and the stranger that had first blindfolded him, but it was gone as quick as he had thought he had seen it. With a shrug, Jaebum finally got up, waiting for his unreliable legs to steady. He thought again- it wasn’t that his legs were unreliable, it was that his mind couldn’t find the motivation to let him continue. He had to use the rest of his being to force his mind into submission, until he could finally walk.

He left his tiny bedroom, moved to the tinier bathroom, and entered. It was inevitable that he would see himself as he entered- the mirror was positioned above the sink, and as soon as the man opened the door, he locked eyes with the glass. He had been tempted to smash this glass several times, to scratch out a portion so that he could hide his eyes and see the rest of the picture without seeing the part that he hated. He hadn’t, though, fearing that his boss would hate him even more if something was off with his face.

From this distance, it was hard to break the contact that he had with himself. His eyes seemed to be able to seduce everything, even themselves. They had changed significantly since that day with the stranger. He remembered, vividly, the burning sensation behind his retinas. He remembered the week that had followed, with his vision blurred, or otherwise completely gone. After the week had passed, his vision had come back to him, and the numbers grew more and more out of hand. They were no longer a small part of his life. People’s faces were covered in numbers, features crossed out by the bleeding red and gold colours.

There had also been a significant change in the shade of those eyes. It had been noticed by nearly everyone.

_“Jaebum, your eyes. How did they get so gold?”_   
_“Did you always look like that?”_   
_“Do you think he’s become an angel or something?”_

Yes, they had become a piercing gold. A colour that could shine even in the darkness, a colour that he had come to dread. It was labelled as a ‘miracle’ by doctors, a ‘nuisance’ by him, and a ‘gift’ by his parents.

His eyes tore away from the mirror, desperate to break away from the hate and history behind the glare. He moved closer to the sink, washing his face all while looking down at the porcelain basin. He would only look up again once he was ready; the temptation to connect his fist with the glass was becoming something almost irresistible.

He towelled his face dry, then brushed his hair and changed into pre-prepared clothes that were sitting neatly on a cupboard shelf. With a final, quick, glance, he studied himself. His hair would be fine as it was and there were no remnants of anything on his face; he decided that it was the most he could do.

Jaebum left for his bedroom once more, flicking the light switch up and earning a satisfactory glow from a bulb above his bed. Approaching his dresser, he slid the top drawer open and was greeted by an abundance of fabrics. They were different colours, different fabrics, and were mostly from different origins; cut clothes, store-bought, given to him as gifts. He selected one now, a deep purple strip that was smooth enough to fall through his fingers without him trying to release it.

His hands, in a ritual-like familiarity, brought the fabric up to his eyes and slowly covered them. His mind, as always, was reminded of the stranger’s hands. The man who had tied the rich blue fabric around his eyes to act as a blindfold; the man who he had never gotten to see. Jaebum secretly cursed himself for not acting better, for not ripping off the blindfold to see the stranger. The man without an identity had become a point of constant torment over eight years.

Jaebum tied it in a tight knot behind his head, adjusting the front so that it was not creased or exposing any of the outside world. Then, grabbing a satchel stuffed with work lanyards, bus tickets and other various items, he threw it around his shoulder and departed from home.

Surprisingly, the fabric provided an effective barricade for the numbers that his eyes threatened him with. It seemed like a difficult compromise; peace for sight. However, he had adjusted to this way of living over eight years. A month after Bongsu’s death, he had come to terms with the piece of information that the stranger had shared with him. He could live without seeing the numbers, even if the stranger didn’t seem too pleased with it, just by covering his eyes.

At first, he had been clumsy. He ran into things frequently and had no idea how to do anything that he could previously do. Other than giving enormous insight into how blind people had to live, it had nearly made him give in. Then he had thought back to Bongsu and tried harder to adjust. Despite pleas from his parents to go back to normal, he wouldn’t. Apart from blinding himself, he also learnt to live without his voice. Over time, he learnt how to live without speaking or seeing. Not that he couldn’t; he just didn’t want to use the same voice or the same eyes that had sentenced Bongsu to a painful death.

Jaebum had learnt sign language and how to read braille, losing every friend that he previously had along the way. He felt it was a small price to pay. He reflected on these sacrifices at every free moment; even now, as he arrived and started waiting for a bus beside twenty others. He could feel gazes on him, could feel people awkwardly shuffling away. He didn’t need to say anything, nor did he feel the need to try and calm them. People feared the unknown, and so, no matter how hard he tried to explain, they would continue to do so.

There was judgement where there wasn’t meant to be, there was abuse from people who were meant to either respect or treat him well. Jaebum would never comment, never fight back and never remove the blindfold, so it made him an even easier target. Of course, many people had tried time and time again to get him to take off the fabric. If not politely asking, it was by force or surprise. His co-workers, on invitation from his boss, would hide around corners to try and yank the fabric off his face. There had been no successes thus far- it was either too tight to pull off, or Jaebum’s heightened senses and fears would cause him to dodge at the right second.

07:34am

The bus broke his thoughts with the steady whirring of the engine. He stepped into line, judging his distance from the final person through basic feeling. If he felt as if they were too close, he was careful to move back from them- otherwise he would stay where he was.

A few seconds passed before the bus driver was coughing. “Are you coming on, mister?”  
Wordlessly, Jaebum nodded. He must’ve misjudged the amount of people left.

The bus driver, half expecting Jaebum to trip on the ledge between the vehicle and the ground, or run into the side of it, felt mild surprise as the man easily stepped up and provided him with the correct amount of money. It was extraordinary how developed the disabled people were getting, he thought.

Jaebum, sensing this condescending aura, was quick to get a seat down the back where he was better hidden. He held his satchel in front of him, resting his head on the wall of the bus. Still, people were staring at him; it was a sensation that wouldn’t leave until he was back home at the end of the day. After a while, however, he realised that there was another sensation. A sensation that was forcing his heart rate to pick up ever so slightly and put him quietly on edge.

His other senses had become sharper with the loss of his sight, so over years, he had learnt to identify certain factors better. He knew how to identify what was familiar, and those things that weren’t familiar were always worrying. Once, Jaebum would’ve been tempted to tear off the blindfold and see why he felt so worried, but with developed patience and a severe hate for the numbers, he had to withstand it and trust he would be safe.

There was someone watching him; it wasn’t the normal ‘watching’ either. Not someone curious, not someone judging him- it was someone watching him deliberately and closely. A stalker perhaps. Jaebum shifted in his seat slightly, whether the watcher was in front or behind him, he couldn’t tell. In fact, now that he thought about it, how did he know that this was so different? He was likely just paranoid. He had been for weeks in the lead up to his birthday.

His eighteenth birthday was today, which meant only one thing.

_“Your eighteenth will come with fate.” The voice had said; cold and unforgiving._

There had been no remorse there, no sign of explanation. To Jaebum, it didn’t seem that farfetched for the stranger to seek him out again.

07:47am

The bus screeched to a stop, shaking Jaebum from his thoughts. There was a moment of silence as confusion spread around the vehicle.  
“Attention please passengers…” it should’ve been the voice of the driver, but Jaebum knew instantly that something was off. It wasn’t the same that had greeted him previously. It had changed.  
“We’ve encountered a problem ahead. Please remain seated.” The voice was deep, rough, exposing an undertone of uncaring. A dangerous type of uncaring.

Jaebum bit the inside of his lip, his grip tightening ever so slightly on the satchel in his lap. His heart was thrumming in his ears, screaming out for pleas for him to escape. There was something so incredibly off, something that was making his hairs stand up. No one else seemed to notice it.

Then, it started.

The screaming and high-pitched wailing. It was a baby’s cry, quickly followed by a mother’s anguished cries and a chorus of yelling from surrounding passengers. Jaebum’s ear twitched, a voice itched in the back of his head.

Take it off, the voice tempted, it can’t hurt to see, can it?

Still, he made no effort to move. Even as the wailing abruptly stopped, even as the mother’s crying cut and an alarming thump disturbed the scene behind him. He did not move an inch.  
“You’re tough. Aren’t you?” The voice of the fake driver was in front of him now, the same gruffness inches away from his face. Perhaps it was fear stopping Jaebum from replying, or perhaps it was the instinct that he shouldn’t.

The bus had gone eerily quiet now.

“I’m sorry, mister,” the title seemed mocking, “I’ll need you to take that blindfold off. Just to confirm something…”

There was an instant of pain, a brief burning sensation at the back of his head. His skin had been cut- it was nothing significant, but the shock seemed to amplify it more than anything else. It had come from the back of his head, and before he could process what had happened, the blindfold was sliding off his face. It fell into his lap deftly, as if betrayed by an old friend. Jaebum’s eyes were focused on it, widening and narrowing as he tried to focus on the situation at hand. His heart was racing in his temples now, throbbing so hard and fast that someone could’ve been hitting him over and over to make the same effect. The cut was starting to bleed, only a tiny amount seeping through his hair.

He felt a grip on his chin, jerking his face up. His eyes were torn away from the fabric and attracted straight into another set of eyes. Red pits that burned with fury, cruelty and hate. Jaebum could feel himself getting pulled into them, completely incompetent and unable to look away.

“It seems my discovery was correct.” The man’s voice again, and as soon as he spoke, Jaebum could finally focus on the entire man’s face.

It was a horrible creation; grotesque horns that vaguely reminded Jaebum of a goat’s stuck out of the man’s temples. His hair had been scorched off and replaced with a tattoo that couldn’t be seen clearly from Jaebum’s angle. His eyes were hidden under large, protruding brows, and separated by a vulture-like nose. This didn’t look like someone who he wanted to associate with- he felt nausea in the pit of his stomach.

His grip on Jaebum’s chin dropped, and a grin spread across his wicked lips. He studied the scene behind Jaebum, which the man still hadn’t turned to look at. He didn’t want to.

“Take a look, Bidder. This is what you will be used for. This is all you will be good for. Why don’t you serve us instead? Isn’t it so bland… so boring to have to wait for people to die? Kill them where they are and send them to us.” The man noticed Jaebum was watching the ground, wordlessly. The stranger frowned, a gesture of disappointment, and grabbed the man by his collar to yank him upwards.

Jaebum protested in the form of a quick plea that escaped his mouth unintentionally.  
“I told you to look. Do it.” The stranger’s voice grew suspiciously lower, his eyes burning again with the insane anger. He released Jaebum’s collar and pushed his shoulder, nudging the man to turn around.

He did so, only to not endanger himself further, and felt a gasp tangle in his throat.

The first thing he noticed was that the bus was suspended in the air. Miles above the road, where it should be safely planted, it teetered carelessly. Jaebum’s balance was already unstable, his eyes faltering at the sight. It seemed like a bad dream that he couldn’t emerge from.

The next thing that he noticed were the windows that had been tinted a deep red. The seats were splattered with a similar mess. The source was, of course, blood. Jaebum could feel his stomach raising into his throat as he slowly pieced together what he had heard earlier. The baby screaming, the woman crying. The baby had become a piece of wall art, impaled through the throat and hanging precariously by an umbrella tip that had been rammed into the back of the bus. The woman was a heap on the floor just below the child, a blade protruding from between her shoulder blades. He suspected that if she was turned around, there would be similar grievous wounds.

Of course, the numbers were there again. The thing that Jaebum didn’t understand, however, was why they had died so tragically when they were both positives.

Jaebum didn’t want to see the rest of it, the image was already burned into his eyes. Into his memory. Even if, for some unknown reason, he did want to see it, his body was already giving up. He fell to his knees and heaved, vomiting all over the bus floor.  
“God makes his bidders so damn weak. Who would employ a mortal?” The voice was talking bitterly behind him, sighing and humming to himself.

Jaebum could feel his throat burning as he finally stopped himself, his chest rising and falling rapidly with patchy breaths. His eyes had shut again, wishing to go back to the morning’s peaceful events. He was sure if he tried to stand or open them again, he would fall or pass out. Then again, would that necessarily be such a bad thing?

“Well, Bidder, how about we send all these people to their rightful homes?” The man approached the other, kneeling beside him and patting his back as a form of encouragement. Jaebum still made no move to do anything other than struggle there.

The stranger was growing increasingly impatient, increasingly irritated. He went to push the man again, none too lightly, but fell over before he could do so. The bus shook to such a degree beneath them that both men struggled in their positions. Jaebum, already unable to hold himself up, fell flat on his stomach, while the stranger hit the wall with a sharp grunt.

The stranger, clearly baffled by this sudden shaking, tried to pull himself up. Before he could do so successfully, however, the bus lurched suddenly, as if about to plummet towards the ground.

Goodbye stomach, Jaebum thought grimly.

The bus caught itself and remained suspended, creaking and groaning.

The next, equally terrifying sound, was the glass shattering on either side of them. Jaebum tried to arch his neck to look up, but the world was spinning around him. It was better to keep his head down and eyes shut. Glass shards fell lightly onto his back, never cutting his skin. There was a flash of bright, white light that could be seen even behind closed eyelids, before the bus shook beneath them again. This time, there was the familiar sound of footsteps behind him. He sucked in a breath and held it there, unsure of what was to come.

“I stop for a moment, just a moment, and you’re already leaping onto my property.” Another voice sounded from behind the two men, one that Jaebum instantly recognised.

The man from eight years ago. The day that had shown him how to deliver Bongsu to a swift end in hell. It was the same man from then, the same voice. Jaebum tried desperately to push himself up, but felt a foot pressing into his back. How the man had gone from the entrance of the bus to above Jaebum in such time was not for mortals to know.  
“It would be better if you stayed down for now. I won’t run away, I promise.” The calming voice was beside his ear, and he slowly felt the tension moving off his back.

Jaebum conformed, unsure of what else to do. There was something supernatural happening here and he didn’t understand a thing about it. It wouldn’t make sense for him to intrude.

The horned stranger snarled, managing to bring himself back to his feet despite the rocking of the bus. It still teetered from side to side, shuddering every few seconds. It seemed fairly unstable, with the arrival of the newcomer. Jaebum, unable to hold back his curiosity, turned his face so that his cheek was pressing into the floor. He could make out the shoes of the newcomer, standing poised in the aisle of the bus, while the other man was pressed into a seat row.

“I was warned about you. Don’t think I don’t know about your antics. You must think I’m stupid.” The horned stranger spat, not earning any significant reaction from the newcomer.  
“I do.” The newcomer replied evenly after a few seconds of faked consideration.  
The stranger glared, silent for a moment. He didn’t venture to say anything further.

The newcomer, satisfied with the brief conversation, turned to face the carnage ahead of him. His shoe tapped- one, two, three, stop. One, two, three, stop. There wasn’t another cycle of tapping, only a sharp inhale. Out of all the things that he could be thinking about, Jaebum found himself wondering why a man, who seemed so powerful, was wearing converse.

“Positives. All but one. It’s very… disappointing.” The voice replicated the similar tone that Jaebum still recognised from years ago.

_“You’ve got blood on your ring.”_

The same sense of irritation, the same annoyance.

The newcomer turned back to the other man, humming to himself. The arrogance from earlier had disappeared, there was a certain degree of fear etched into the horned man’s face. He obviously knew who this other man was and was obviously, very unhappy with it.  
“You will not mess with my Bidder again.” The newcomer’s voice fell flat- he sounded as if he was used to giving out commands, as if he was someone with a lot of power; someone who one shouldn’t defy.  
“And why’s that?” The horned man dared.  
There was another long pause, a cold silence that only stretched and built upon the tension. “Because, I said that you wouldn’t.”  
“Well-“

The stranger’s voice was cut off by a small grunt and Jaebum realised that the newcomer had moved forward ever so slightly. He never understood what had happened in that instance, as the horned man crumpled to the ground, not a trace of a wound on his body. He didn’t bleed, he only started to melt into a rich black puddle after a shudder of light bounced off his skin.

Jaebum felt a spike of fear now that he was alone with the man from eight years ago. His mind couldn’t comprehend anything, just the fact that he had a right to be scared.  
“Useless things, they are.” The man muttered to himself and turned back to Jaebum, who hurried to bury his face back into the floor.  
“Jaebum,” the voice became much softer, “get up now. We have some cleaning up to do.”

Jaebum hesitated for a second. His stomach was still weak from vomiting, his mind still faltering to the image of the child and mother. He was sure he wouldn’t be able to stand up, but there was a new strength in his legs. A sort of energy that had bubbled from out of nowhere. Unsure of himself, he slowly stood, using the muscles in his forearms to boost himself off the floor to start. As he lifted himself up, his eyes picked out little details that he normally would’ve missed. He found he was becoming more alert, and the dreadful picture of the baby was becoming less certain. Even as he grazed over the scene once more, it almost didn’t seem so real or at least, so terrible.

The newcomer was watching him closely, watching the confusion that was sparkling behind the brilliant golden eyes. It had been centuries since he had seen a Bidder that looked so promising. He held his hand out, patiently waiting for the other to turn to him. It took a few more minutes for Jaebum to even consider turning, but as soon as he did, he was met by the deep blue eyes. The blue that put sapphires to shame, that made the depths of the ocean seem shallow. The blue that ebbed along the spectrum of shading, changing from aqua to navy in mere seconds.

Taking the entirety of the man’s face into account, none of it seemed real. The bones seemed too perfectly structured, the hair complacent to be styled well. His brows were a perfectly trimmed shape, his lips dark and full. When Jaebum looked down at his hand, the man’s skin seemed to shimmer ever so slightly too. This man, or rather, this thing, was definitely not human.

“It’s nice to meet you, finally. I’m Jinyoung, your… supervisor.” There was a slight hesitation before the man’s lips twisted into friendly smile. It was one that, thankfully, met his eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for how late this chapter is, especially considering the fact that some actually waited for this? Sorry again. It's a bit shoddy/choppy due to the long time frame that I wrote it over. Will hopefully be able to publish more chapters sooner and not leave such big time gaps. Thank you for continuing to read!
> 
> Enjoy.

06/01: A few hours earlier

The man could finally see, the deep blue of his eyes seemed to radiate after eight hours of recharging. He steadily lifted one of his hands, placing it directly in front of him. Tilting his head, he carefully moved each finger, and then stretched so that the tendons were exaggerated. A smile crossed his face- everything was in order.

He had been in the same position for eight hours and the human replication models tended to stiffen once left in that sitting position. He rolled his neck, once again noting how inconvenient the concepts of bones and limbs were. No wonder so many humans were in a hurry to die.

He stood, once again taking his time to stretch, and then moved to the mirror- the only furnishing in the bare room. His eyes fell on his reflection. His hair was parted the same as always, his eyes were the beautiful blue that he had loved for centuries. Perhaps the only strange thing about his appearance, apart from him looking too unreal, were the large white wings that were folded neatly behind him. They were flecked with blue, once again reasserting the love for that shade, and boasted a span that was equal to twice his height once in use.

The other anomaly in his appearance was the suit that dressed him. It matched the colour of his eyes, with a white shirt beneath it to distract from the piercing blue. It was creased, the tie was loose, the shoes were untied. As soon as he noticed the unsatisfactory anomalies, they disappeared; fixing themselves in an instant.

With a grunt, as if turning required some effort, he moved away from the mirror and headed to the bedroom door. He reached out for the door knob and flinched as pain shot through his body; a sharp breath escaped his lips. The white room around him was melting into a shimmering gold that was too bright to look at. He shut his eyes once more, feeling his knees give out as the power pressed down on him.

The presence was suffocating him, pushing his body and mind to the brink of exertion. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence either.

“A#34.” The voice boomed around him, monotonous as it read out the number.

Upon creation, each angel was given a number. The lower the number, the earlier the angel had been made into existence, and the higher it was in terms of ranking. At Jinyoung’s rank, it was practically impossible to find the angels that were above him, since many had ascended to higher ranks or were on important missions that would last for centuries. Of course, despite being higher ranks, some had also somehow died or, in extreme cases, joined the opposing side. Jinyoung, also known as A#34, found human names much more romantic and appealing, so he rarely went by his label. Only, in situations like this, his human name was never used.

This was God. As usual, showing up in the most painful way to deliver messages. Jinyoung was too supressed in his current body to say anything and that was exactly what God intended. Only through essence, could Jinyoung communicate.

He felt himself leaving the human body that he had made himself, feeling awfully naked in his purest form- a white light that buzzed with energy.   
“Good morning, your holiness.” Jinyoung’s own voice left his mind. He wanted to look down at the body on the floor, double check that his suit hadn’t been ruined again, but his attention was commanded fully by God.  
“It is the 6th. Bidder 0590 will be ready today. Please make your way to him as soon as possible.” The voice came again and was gone like that. God never hung around after delivering instructions, knowing that the power within itself was enough to command and not have anyone answering back.

The walls slowly drained back to white, and A#34’s attention went back to his body on the ground. He could already see the awkward angle the body was in and could thus predict that he would have to fix himself up again. He made his way back into the body, not feeling so naked once he was back into that human form. He propped himself up, slowly rising so that he was standing again and brushed the suit down habitually, looking at the walls in annoyance. He had been planning to trace his Bidder anyway.

He checked his suit, straightening out any creases with a caution one would only take if his annoyance hindered his actions. Jinyoung decided to do one last thing before leaving- it might help if he knew where his Bidder was.

He turned away from the door, his eyes coming into contact with the blank white walls again. His brow furrowed, an indication that he was focusing and concentrating solely on his task. The walls melted once more- this time into a world that was splashed with colour; littered with humans and curious constructions. Jinyoung looked once more, and the image zoomed out.

He finally realised what he was looking at; it was a street, where a bus stop stood shabbily at the end of it. His Bidder, Jaebum, was obviously heading somewhere. Jinyoung tutted- it was dangerous for him to be going anywhere alone in his current state. He noted that the man still wore the damn blindfold, still hid his eyes from view. It was a pity really.

The vision dissipated, and Jinyoung finally left.

\--

His feet landed lightly on the ground beneath him, his converse squeaking slightly as they scraped on the concrete. He straightened his sunglasses, going to adjust the cuffs of his suit to realise that he wasn’t wearing one anymore. Old habits certainly died hard, he realised.

He ended up simply tugging on the sweater sleeve, adjusting an aspect that was perfectly fine. He was used to always being in the business suit; that’s why he liked Earth so much. He enjoyed the comfort of human streetwear, and so he often changed into it when he descended. He had to be careful in doing that, though, because his job demanded that he was strictly always wearing the ‘uniform.’ If he ran into another angel, it was a matter of snapping his fingers and changing back.

He stepped out of the alleyway, blending into the surroundings immediately. Around this area, there weren’t many high-end companies, so ‘thugs’ and teenagers mainly dominated the surroundings. He pulled up the tracking image of Jaebum in his head, finding that the man was now on a bus. Jinyoung started to make his way forward, too absorbed in his own tracking to watch where he was walking. He zoomed out of the image, seeing the bus moving on a highway. There was something peculiar on the side of the vehicle.

Frowning, Jinyoung zoomed in once more. The was a man emerging from the bottom of the bus, scaling the side and clinging on as they churned past traffic and scenery. It took a moment of hesitation and processing for Jinyoung to realise what it was. Horror dawned on Jinyoung as he realised that it wasn’t a human. It was a demon, headed straight for his Bidder.

Jinyoung, still walking forward, came to an abrupt stop as he hit a man in front of him. He re-emerged from his mind, coming face to face with a barrel-like man, staring down at him.

“Watch where you’re going, punk.” The man growled, and Jinyoung, not wanting to stir trouble with such a precarious situation ahead of him, simply nodded and moved out of the man’s way.

He couldn’t risk getting to Jaebum through viable means because it would be too late by then. He had to do what was always discouraged; he had to use his wings. They had been hidden once he was in his proper human form, fading away and becoming a part of his essence.

Angels had three forms. Their purest form, their essence, was the raw energy and power of an angel. It was a ball of light, with thin tendrils that tangled into an orb and were too subtle to be seen individually. Angels were first made as an essence and were later able to alter and customise a human form so that they wouldn’t be penalised into staying in the heavens. The second form was a morph between human and essence form, a form known as the in-between form, and was only visible to other ethereal beings. It was a form that tricked humans into seeing other things; logical things, so that they wouldn’t question their existence. For instance, an angel flying past a window could be easily altered by the human brain into believing that it was a bird, a plane, anything else that would make sense.

He couldn’t, however, simply change into this form. If he did so, in the middle of a crowd, he would simply disappear from their eye. That would cause many more questions and was something that Jinyoung couldn’t risk, especially at his high-ranked status.

He could always return to the alleyway from before, but the man that he had run into made himself comfortable beside the entrance to it. He could always throw a few punches, but the risk of killing a human was too great to try.

Jinyoung chewed on his lip absently, looking around at all of the abandoned buildings around him. Normally, he may be able to go into a public toilet and vanish that way. None of the companies around him were even operating anymore, and there wasn’t a single utility block in sight. He supposed the law didn’t matter that much anyway- it was a human construct. What did trespassing mean to him?

The answer turned out to be nothing.

He went to an area that was less crowded and found a door with loose boards. He disregarded those around him for a moment, tugging the deteriorating boards away from the door. No one spoke to him, only watched him with a strange sense of curiosity. He managed to get the old boards off, having targeted the rusted nails, then it was as simple as shoulder barging the rotten door and knocking it down with his weight.

He stepped inside, hurrying up a set of rickety stairs, not bothering with the risk of one falling beneath him. He got to the second floor, pushed himself against a wall and shut his eyes. If anyone followed him in, it would be risky for him to change here, but he had no choice.

The tracking image was in the back of his mind- the demon’s plans would be well underway by now. He released a breath, cringing slightly as his wings split through the fabric covering his back. They spread out on either side of him, and he felt the power of his essence returning to him- even in the in-between form, the energy from his essence was overwhelming.

He thought back to his sweater, and the fabric amended itself around his wings. With that, he let out a satisfied grunt and went back down the stairs, folding his wings momentarily. He had to squeeze back out the door, where he rushed past people peering into the broken door. Where did he go, he could hear them thinking. It would be the most excitement they got all day.

His wings unfolded once more, and with a powerful gust of wind, he was lifted into the air. Some people turned to see if anything was happening, others ignored it. He didn’t care about that currently, and ascended further and further, until everyone had been rendered down to ants.

7:50am

The bus slowly came into sight as Jinyoung flew above the highway, skimming the rooves of cars. He was paranoid that he wouldn’t be able to find the exact bus; that it would blend in with the other backed up traffic, but that worry was quickly dispelled. He only had to look up to see his target. The demon had been stupid enough to release its full power, creating an imbalance and sending the bus into the air. Now it floated, as car owners and pedestrians crowded on the street to ogle at that strange sight. It could easily be explained as a movie set, or as something equally outrageous.  He propelled himself up once more- his impatience and irritated mind only proving to increase the power that was slowly starting to consume him.

As soon as he reached the top of the bus, his feet quietly planting on the ceiling, the vehicle started to shake violently. There was a reason that heaven and hell were on completely different planes, as there was also a reason why demons were not welcome on Earth.

The presence of two clashing powers- demons and angels- was enough to disrupt simple matters of Earth; such as gravity. If Jinyoung didn’t sort the situation quickly, it was possible for sinkholes to open, or for parts of the sky to collapse. It didn’t sound realistic- but both planes suffered when there was a power imbalance.

The image tracking was playing out in his mind, the demon was getting awfully close to Jaebum, speaking.  
“Well, Bidder, how about we send all these people to their rightful homes?” The man’s voice intruded Jinyoung’s ears, and he felt anger boiling once more in his chest. The noise was dreadful- like a harmony so poorly played that it could be called a screech.

The fury building inside Jinyoung was slowly translating into fuel for his power, his essence was starting to slowly shine through the in-between form and cause the bus to creak and falter beneath him. The easiest way inside would be through the glass, and he didn’t feel like trying to think of any less destructive option. He backpedalled, leaping off the top of the bus and flying in an arc, aiming straight for the windscreen of the bus.

The noise was deafening.

The glass shattered as his body split through it, shards cutting his wings and human skin, but otherwise rebounding off him as if it were rubber. If the cuts stung, or hurt him in the slightest, he was too angry to consider it as even a mild annoyance. The surrounding glass burst as the first did, Jinyoung’s overwhelming power sending the whole vehicle into a broken fit.

As he landed softly inside the vehicle, his eyes stopped on the demon, the blue swirling and ebbing like a current ready to drown a helpless victim.   
“I stop for a moment, just a moment, and you’re already leaping onto my property.” His eyes fell to the Bidder, the cowered form on the floor, who looked like he had been struck by some sort of invisible force.

Jinyoung guessed he was shocked- the last time they had interacted was when his friend (Jinyoung couldn’t remember his name for the life of him) died. He hadn’t done the man a favour that day, the blindfold had turned him into a coward, turned him into someone who wanted to shun his job; shun his potential. Jaebum was slowly turning, desperate to gather his bearings and see the man who had all of the answers. Jinyoung didn’t have enough time for something like that currently, so he made the effort to step on the man’s back, pressing him back into the floor.

“It would be better if you stayed down for now. I won’t run away, I promise.” He spoke calmly, his eyes finally going back to the snarling demon. The thing had stood and was clinging to a bus seat as the bus continued to tremor and lurch. Jaebum calmed beneath him, and Jinyoung retracted his foot when he felt that the man wouldn’t attempt to jump up and confront him. This was a messy situation, and Jinyoung didn’t really want a warning or a potential strike against his name on his first day with the Bidder.  
“I was warned about you. Don’t think I don’t know about your antics. You must think I’m stupid.” The demon decided that this was the best time to talk, and Jinyoung’s anger flared once more. He didn’t respond for a moment, suppressing the urge to just slaughter this thing from a distance but knowing it wouldn’t be as satisfying.  
“I do.” He finally said, easily allowing for a smile to settle on his face.

The other interesting thing, Jinyoung noted, was the fact that the demon had been warned about Jinyoung, and had probably been given some form of protocol to deal with him. There was either something special about Jaebum, or hell was just running very low on Bidders. Jinyoung guessed it was the first one, since Bidders these days found rebellion cool. It wasn’t.

The demon had finally gathered that it was out of its depth and decided not to speak again, so Jinyoung glanced over at the main attraction. The smell of blood clung to the air, sickening metallic seeping through every surface. There was a dead human child, a crumpled human mother. To Jinyoung, this was nothing new- demons found ways to break their targets, found ways to snap them into cruel thinking and away from their pathetic human origins. To Jaebum, he knew that this would’ve been hard. Very hard, and he would’ve been scarred. Permanently.

Jinyoung’s foot tapped as he thought, a sign of his increasing irritation, until he finally brought himself back.  
“Positives,” his eyes processed the numbers printed to the corpses, “all but one. It’s very… disappointing.”   
He felt his temper slipping once more. He wasn’t fond of humans, that was obvious enough, but he respected the general belief that they ended up where they deserved. The negatives would burn with every other negative, the positives would be free to live an even greater afterlife. These people would be no different, they could still be gifted with a title that their number demanded, but they shouldn’t have died in the first place. He estimated the baby could’ve survived until way past 60, and the mother would’ve had a good 40 more years of life. What a damn waste.

His eyes shifted to the demon, who had been watching him back for some time now. As soon as Jinyoung bothered to look, the other’s eyes were already searching for some other focal point.  
“You will not mess with my Bidder again.” His voice echoed, the bus seeming to sense his temper and quivering once more.  
“And why’s that?”   
Jinyoung didn’t reply for a moment, telling himself to reign himself in. He couldn’t eradicate a whole city; the first time that had happened had been bad enough. It was the sort of anger that was burning his throat, bubbling softly in his chest. It needed one final stir to explode, so he was hoping that the demon would realise that and shut up. “Because, I said that you wouldn’t.”  
There was silence, and for one moment, Jinyoung had faith that this thing would finally keep its quiet. That hope was quickly broken, as he heard one word slip out.  
“Well-“

And that, was the final stir. Jinyoung had enough experience and control to reign the burst in on the stranger, to prevent the bus from instantly collapsing, to focus it all on this one hateful thing. Jinyoung moved forward ever so slightly, a movement that was subtle enough due to his quick feet. Straight after that, in what seemed less than a millisecond, a beam of light was bursting from his chest, was reflecting against his skin, burning through the demon’s essence.

It was withdrawn practically as soon as it had left him, and Jinyoung watched with a dull satisfaction as the thing was reduced to nothing more than a sludge puddle.

9:00am

He drank the coffee with the realisation that he had little to be impressed about. He was sitting across from his Bidder, who had quickly rendered his vision back to nothing; who had scrambled for about five minutes trying to tie the thing with shaking fingers. Jinyoung, feeling the very strange emotion of pity had eventually helped the crying man, able to tie it with a steadier grip. This had been after Jaebum had done his job, even though he had been reluctant enough to refuse several times, until Jinyoung had told him that their spirits would float forever if Jaebum didn’t help. The Bidder’s first job was complete, but he was still struggling with mortality. Jinyoung didn’t know how to empathise in general, let alone with the concept of mortality.

So now Jinyoung was waiting for the man to spill into a fit of questions, except that didn’t seem to be happening any time soon. Jaebum seemed to be content with sitting opposite him, sipping on a milkshake that had been finished about ten minutes ago, surrounded by the familiar sight of absolutely nothing. Jinyoung glanced out the window, taking in the dead streets. The bus incident had likely sucked the business from such a place, curiosity engulfing the better part of humanity.

“I can still see them.” Jaebum’s wavering voice eventually broke the silence, and Jinyoung slowly looked back to him. It took him a moment to realise that the man was crying again, streaks of tears emerging from blindfolded eyes. Jinyoung could normally gauge emotions based on the eyes, but this proved a challenge. He couldn’t see the eyes.  
“It will be like that for a while.” He replied evenly, glancing back down at his coffee with distaste. It was cheap and wasn’t sweet enough.  
“I don’t think I can handle that.”

Jinyoung looked back up at him, attempting to find something to say. For once, he was speechless. How could he respond to someone he couldn’t even see? He drummed his fingers on the desk for a moment.  
“You’ll have to,” his reply wasn’t unkind, as he attempted to appeal to the man, “it’s your job.”  
Another shudder went through Jaebum, and he dropped his head. “Can’t you take it back? Surely it’s- it’s not something that needs to be with me.”   
“Take back what? Your powers?”  
He nodded.  
“No.” Jinyoung stated simply, finally giving up on the coffee and leaving it on the table, frowning slightly. He took in the shaking figure in front of him, his sympathy slowly pulling to a halt.

Why was he allowing his Bidder to be so ignorant? Why was he allowing the man to shun his job and his fate? The thought only just occurred to Jinyoung that perhaps he was being immature, and perhaps he wasn’t giving his Bidder a taste for reality. He should’ve kicked the blindfold away, rather than helped him with it. He should’ve told him to snap out of it, that he would see much worse, that his lifespan would extend, and nothing would likely ever end for him. He would be stuck in a constant loop until he brought his end upon his self. Yet, Jinyoung, renown for his cruelty and cunning cold air, couldn’t find it within him to do such a thing. He felt an attachment to this human, and he hadn’t seen him for almost two decades.

The best he could do, he reasoned, was edge this shell of a man closer and closer to his responsibilities. He had to give pushes, but he couldn’t shove him too much- the Bidder was sensitive, rightly so. Perhaps if Jinyoung had been kinder to him earlier, he could’ve stopped such sensitivity- but it was no time to reflect on the past.

“Jaebum,” he tested the name on his tongue, leaning forward in his chair slightly, “you need to trust me from now on.”   
The shaking continued, but Jinyoung was sure the man had stopped crying. It was just trauma now- a subject that had to be dealt with delicately. “I can’t.”  
“You will need to. If you don’t, the bus situation will only replicate over and over. You won’t be able to walk down a street without getting ambushed-“  
“I don’t care.” Jaebum cut him off, pushing his chair back and going to stand. Jinyoung was quick enough to latch onto the man’s wrist, tethering him to the table for an instance.  
“I know you don’t. Not about yourself. But you said so just before, you could still see them. You could still see that child, and that mother, who died unfairly. You, no doubt, have that clawing feeling of guilt; you’re planning to do something to end it.”  
Jaebum’s lips pressed into a line as he heard the angel spoke, not admitting that the other was right.  
“If you really want to stop those things from happening, I need to be there to protect you. They won’t prey on the innocent if it doesn’t affect you. Let me help you-“ Jinyoung swallowed, forcing his pride down his throat, “-please.”


End file.
